Only to Serve Him
by Mrs Bella Riddle
Summary: With any new servant there are many steps that a Death Eater needs to accomplish to be worthy of the ranks. With Bellatrix Black, there is an extra one. B/V for the World Limit Competition


Wow I'm feeling productive today. This fic is for round 3 of the Word Limit Competition featuring the prompt 'Go all the Way' and had to be around 1500 words (this is 1470). I decided to focus on the two ways this can be interpreted in the bellamort 'relationship' (to the limited extent that phrase is relevant).

Enjoy

* * *

There was something fundamentally unique about the situation. As he rose to power over the decades, Voldemort had acquired himself a significant number of followers, but Bellatrix Black was still an extremely unique asset.

Born as a daughter of The Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, she was undeniably blessed with an impeccable blood status and stunning good looks, yet those factors only had a small amount of relevance compared in this moment.

Her birth meant nothing. Her looks meant nothing. Her blood (mostly) meant nothing.

Kneeling before him in the black robes he had instructed she wear, Black stared up at him like an insect ensnared by a bug catcher. Most of his followers were too terrified to look him in the eye, but she was not. Her lack of fear could have frustrated him, though the sheer level of worship in her eyes made him sure he could not complain.

"Do you still swear you will do anything for me, Miss Black?" he said coldly as he traced her form with his eyes.

"Of course, my Lord," she murmured without any hesitation. "Anything, my Lord. Anything."

Declarations like that might have impacted others, but not Lord Voldemort. To him they were only words. He could never believe someone would really sacrifice everything for someone else. If it were true, he would have found that useful in his followers, though, his understanding of human emotions, made him sure it was a ludicrous prospect.

Expressionless and as cool as a statue, Voldemort turned on his heel and strode out from the hallway and into the open sitting room. "Come," he ordered simply.

Assuming she could at least follow that order, he did not check on her progress. As always he was correct in his assumption as, when he stopped, he turned to find Black behind him. As soon as his eyes fell upon her, without any orders from him, she fell to his knees. His lips curled up slightly, _that was an encouraging sign._

This time Black was not looking at him. Her dark eyes were focused behind him at a heavily bound figure. He could have used Legilimency to examine her thoughts, but the hunger in her eyes was obvious for all to see. It was quite curious. He had seen such looks from his most seasoned Death Eaters, but coming from a woman who was so young it was rather queer.

It did not mean it was not a positive.

Nodding to Bellatrix he said, without any expression, "Torture it. I want to see what you can do."

"Yes, my Lord," she murmured softly and, like a dog that had been let off its leash, she lashed out at her prey. "Crucio!"

The screams of her victim were loud and high pitched, but neither party in the room were troubled. They only savoured the sound.

The torture was continuous. Voldemort did not provide any other orders and Black did not stop. He was pleasantly pleased by the display. She was still coal, but she could soon be polished into a perfect diamond. As she worked, he was already engulfed by plans on how to work her into his plans.

There was only one matter to deal with.

Torture was one thing, but it did not mean she had gone all the way with her tasks.

"Stop," he ordered coolly, his voice breaking through the much louder screams from the muggle woman. With more than a little reluctance, Black obeyed. Stepping forward, he circled the muggle, his lips curled upwards into a slight smirk. "Good. Good."

Black's joy was even more obvious from the glow in her still hungry eyes and the grin that spread over her face that was slightly sprinkled in blood. "Thank you, Master," she murmured slightly with a voice that was breathy and still full of excitement. "I live only to please you."

It was the usual empty words and he waved them away.

"Then kill it."

There was no hesitation. Still with a grin, she raised her wand. "Avada Kedavra!" she screamed in delight as the light left the eyes of the filth.

Voldemort continued to watch her with a slight smile.

Perhaps she was ready. She had now gone all the way he expected in his followers. She would be ripe to now unleash on his enemies.

* * *

As a follower killing, torture, blackmail and duelling normally would have been the full extent of the tasks he expected from his Death Eaters. Of course there were raids and other tests, but the act of killing was normally the sign that they had gone all the way in their preparedness for missions.

For Bellatrix there was something more.

Despite popular belief, desire was not below him. It was just another urge that needed quenching like eating or sleeping. Of course, many fools assumed sex and love were linked, but that was only for those who were weak. No, love was irrelevant; the only thing that mattered was his desires.

Bella would merely serve him in another way.

She was trembling. Sitting on the side of his bed, he watched the quivers that rampaged through the woman in front of him. Her flirtations and suggestions had been prevalent from almost the moment he had given her the Mark, but they had escalated this evening and he had taken action by ordering her to follow him to his room.

She knew why she was here and he suspected that was why she was nervous. Unlike when she had killed her first muggle for him, she actually demonstrated some anxiety. It did not matter. She had started this situation so now she would go the whole way.

"Strip," he ordered coolly to the woman before him in the same tone he would use if he was requesting she kill or torture. "I want to see what I am getting."

Despite her nerves, she complied without fuss. Her fumbling fingers undid each button as she slid her robes off so they pooled at her feet. As she progressed, his face was as cold as ice until both her undergarments had joined her robes at her feet and she was bare before him. His own eyes turned hungry as he examined her in her entirety; full dark nipples that were hard in the crisp air to her smooth stomach and down to the dark curls between her legs. His eyes were the only thing that betrayed his emotions. Even Lord Voldemort could admit she was a beauty.

"Come here, Bella," he requested, using a nickname he had started to use as she rose in the ranks, while he patted the space beside him on the bed. "Sit."

There was no answer. Her lips flicked up to wet her presumably dry lips as she sunk into the space next to him. For the first time she did not look at him, but down at her bare legs. "My Lord, you should know this is-" Bella murmured softly though he cut her off.

"I'm aware it is your first time," he snapped as he reached forward to grasp her chin and tilt her face to stare at him again. "I'm aware that this is expected in a young unmarried pureblood woman such as yourself, but do not assume this means I will pardon your earlier behaviour. It should be an honour for me to take your innocence."

"It is!" she cried with wide eyes. He noticed her hands twitching in her lap. He wondered if she intended to use them to attempt to push him away or pull him closer. "I only mean, Master, that I- I may not know how to please you correctly."

A dark chuckle escaped Voldemort's lips as he examined her. "You do not need to worry about that."

Before she could even respond, he crashed his cool lips against her warm ones. It was demanding full of passion with no tenderness. She did not whimper or protest; she only intensified the connection by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself closer. He might have chastised her for touching him without permission, but for this first time he would allow her some leeway.

As long as he had control.

Pulling her back onto the bed, he pressed her into the mattress and allowed his hands to examine the flesh of his self professed most loyal servant. She had given herself to him and he had no problems taking what he desired.

A few hours later, once he had dismissed her from his room and he was left alone in his own thoughts, he smirked to himself. It was so easy. Little Miss Black was forever his. In every way she had submitted and given him everything he desired.

She would continue to do so.


End file.
